As she’d told Tier, necromancy was not something Ravens used—but it was prudence rather than ability that stopped them. Meddling with the dead was no light thing. If her need had not been so great she’d have left it alone.
Her fingers told her nothing; the bone could almost have been a stone in a field that had never felt a human hand, so little of its past stayed with it.
She set it down and touched Frost’s skull. Nothing. Someone had deliberately cleaned these bones as they’d cleaned the bridle and saddle blanket. No random magic could rape the memory of life from a bone.
She picked up the human skull again and sent more magic seeking through it. A bridle or a blanket could be cleaned of lives that brush past it, but not even a great deal of magic could clean away a whole lifetime completely. There had to be bits of it left, if she tried hard enough.
Beneath her fingers she felt a tentative response. She pressed the cool bone to her forehead and left it there a long time as she sought to touch the faint pulse of experience.
The sun was setting when she placed the skull gently beside Frost’s.
“This man was not Tier,” she whispered around the throbbing pain in her temples. “He was a Traveler, dead of a blade, not magic fire—and he died somewhere far away, though not long ago.”
“It doesn’t mean that Papa’s alive,” he said, obviously hoping she’d contradict him. “Someone tried to make us think him dead with the skull and Frost’s body—but they might simply have taken his body away, or taken him off to kill elsewhere.”
“It only means that Tier probably didn’t die here,” she agreed, fear and hope both held in firm control.
Lehr began filling in the grave, skull and all, and Seraph thought about what she knew.
“Lehr?” she said finally.
“Hmm?”
“These people who killed Frost took a lot of trouble to obscure their tracks. They weren’t good enough to fool you, but they tried very hard. If you hadn’t seen their tracks below, would you have noticed them here? If we were looking for Tier’s remains rather than evidence that he was taken?”
He frowned, “Maybe not.”
Seraph nodded. “I think they knew about you. They were careful to take Tier outside of the realm of the forest king—I think they knew about him as well. They cleansed Frost’s body and the leather and cloth, leaving them no past for me to read. They spent a long time trying to make that skull silent—and almost succeeded.”
“No one knows about the forest king,” said Lehr, turning over the last spade of dirt. “But Hennea said that whoever sent the letter to the priest knew what we are.”
“Yes,” agreed Seraph. “How did they know, not only that I am Raven, but exactly what my skills are? Most Ravens cannot read the past in an object. These men knew what trail Tier would take home—and it’s not the way he left.”
Lehr frowned. “Not even I knew what path Papa takes home. He kept it quiet because the furs are worth a lot of money—did you notice that there is no trace of the furs? They would have been packed over Frost’s hindquarters, which weren’t even scorched.”
“No, I hadn’t noticed,” said Seraph. “So thrifty of them.”
Lehr packed in a layer of dirt with his foot. “I suppose that someone could have overheard Jes talking about the forest king—but Jes seldom talks to anyone but the family. No one else really pays attention to what he says anyway. And if none of us knew what magic you could do until Forder brought back Frost’s bridle, who would know what you could do?”
She waited, watching him think about it. If he came up with the same answer as she did…
“Bandor used to hunt with Papa, didn’t he?” Lehr whispered it. “During the first years when the bakery used to have to support the farm, too? Jes was just a baby.”
“That’s right,” Seraph said.
“And, after you and Papa got married, Bandor was the only one who used to talk to you. He knows a lot about the Travelers—did you tell him what kinds of things you could do?”
“Yes,” she said.
“And Bandor knows about Jes’s stories of the forest king—but he doesn’t believe them, Mother.”
She smiled at him grimly. “Do you know who your father thinks the forest king is? I mean aside from Jes’s dealings with him?”
“No.”
“What if I told you that in a very old language, ell means king or lord and vanail is forest. If you put them together—”
“Ellevanal?”
Seraph had never seen anyone’s jaw drop before; it was an unattractive expression.
“Do you mean,” whispered her son, “that Ellevanal, god of the forest and growing things, the Ellevanal, Karadoc’s Ellevanal, is Jes’s forest king?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “Today is the first time I’ve met him, and I didn’t ask. He doesn’t look like a god, does he? But I know that Tier was convinced of it, and he told your Aunt Alinath what he thought.”
Alinath had been at her worst, telling Tier that Seraph couldn’t give Jes the kind of attention that he needed. That Seraph encouraged Jes’s problems by listening to his stories about his made-up friend. A boy, she’d said, needed to understand that lying was not acceptable. She hadn’t liked it when Tier suggested Jes hadn’t lied at all.
Seraph smiled grimly. “Bandor was there when he said it.”
But Lehr was still worried about other matters. “But the forest lord belongs here, to our forest. Ellevanal is worshiped everywhere—I mean, Karadoc has had apprentices, and there’s a larger church in Korhadan.”
“I don’t worship gods,” said Seraph. “You’ll have to take it up with the forest king next time you meet him.”
Lehr thought about her answer, but it seemed to satisfy him because he changed the subject. “Uncle Bandor loves us, loved… loves Papa. He wouldn’t do anything to hurt Papa.”
“So I believe,” agreed Seraph. “But you and I both came up with his name. He’s become one of Volis’s followers. I think that we need to be cautious around him until we know more.”
“So what are we going to do now?”
“First we’ll finish here, then I have a few questions for the priest. Can you take us by the quickest route to Redern?”
“Yes,” he said. “But we won’t make it before dark.”
“No matter,” Seraph said coldly. “I don’t mind waking up a few people.”
Or tearing them limb from limb if she had to. Tier had been taken, alive—because she couldn’t bear it otherwise—and she intended to find out where he was. And tearing someone limb from limb sounded very, very good. Let Volis face a Raven who knew what he was when he didn’t have a cadre of wizards to protect him. Oh, she would have her answers from him before she slept this night.
“What about Rinnie?” asked Lehr.
“Jes will have gotten back from taking Hennea to the village by now. Rinnie will be safe with him.”
Gura barked, and Rinnie looked up from her gardening. But whoever had disturbed the dog was on the other side of the house.
Rinnie jumped to her feet and dusted off her skirt. She put her hand on Gura’s collar and set off to see who had come.
CHAPTER 7
He opened his eyes to utter darkness and a cold stonefloor under his cheek, though he didn’t remember going to sleep. He took a deep, shaken breath and tried to determine how he got here, wherever here was. The last thing Tier remembered was riding Frost down the mountain on the way back home.
Undeniably, he was no longer on the mountain. The stone floor beneath his hands was level, and his fingers found the marks of a chisel. He was in a room, though he could hear water flowing nearby.